


You May Conquer the Land

by AppoApples



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Sex, Slave Trade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:15:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28144443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppoApples/pseuds/AppoApples
Summary: Qui-Gon didn't cheat the roll. Anakin remained a slave and his mother went free. The Chosen One is bartered off, lost to the Jedi and the Sith. Fifteen years later, the Empire has swallowed the Republic whole and the Jedi have been scattered to the winds. Padme Amidala falls in with a party of pirates, and finds the Rebellion's greatest ally. Major AU. An Ode to Ben Hur (1959).So, I am not an Anakin apologist, but Ben Hur (1959) is a truly epic film that Star Wars shares many themes with. I decided to write a Space Opera that would explore a man surviving untold tragedies and the galaxy he saves for the woman he loves.
Relationships: Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 10
Kudos: 51





	You May Conquer the Land

* * *

Dyslexia: I have a language disability, dear Nauze helps me do a run-through, you're still going to find mistakes. This is free fiction, so please just eat the cake.

* * *

Judah Ben-Hur: You speak as if he were God.

Messala: He is God! The only god! He has power, real power on Earth! Not-

[gestures to the sky]

Messala: Not that. Help me, Judah.

Judah Ben-Hur: I would do anything for you, Messala, except betray my own people.

Messala: In the name of all the gods, Judah, what do the lives of a few Jews mean to you?

Judah Ben-Hur: If I cannot persuade them, that does not mean I would help you murder them! Besides, you must understand this, Messala. I believe in the past of my people and in their future.

Messala: Future? You are a conquered people.

Judah Ben-Hur: You may conquer the land. You may slaughter the people. But that is not the end. We will rise again.

Messala: You live on dead dreams. You live on the myths of the past. The glory of Solomon is gone! Do you think it will return? Joshua will not rise again to save you nor David! There is only one reality in the world today! Look to the west, Judah! Don't be a fool, look to Rome!

Judah Ben-Hur: I would rather be a fool than a traitor or a killer!

Messala: I am a soldier!

Judah Ben-Hur: Yes! Who kills, for Rome, and Rome is _evil_.

Messala: I warn you!...

Judah Ben-Hur: NO! I warn YOU! Rome is an affront to God! Rome is strangling my people and my country, the whole Earth! But not forever. And I tell you, the day Rome falls, there will be a shout of freedom such as the world has never heard before!

Messala: Judah, either you help me or you oppose me, you have no other choice. You're either for me or against me!

Judah Ben-Hur: If that is the choice, then I am against you.

 _-Ben Hur_ (1959), Charles Haston and Stephen Boyd.

* * *

Chapter 1 - Remember Me

Padme Amidala didn't really know how she had found herself sitting on the edge of a Zygerrian court orgy, but here she was.

With absolutely nowhere safe to look.

Force help her, the sounds alone were making her ill.

She had stood witness to war and genocide, and every time, she had picked up her weapon, running headlong into chaos and mayhem, retreating only for the safety of her guards.

But a room full of feline slavers in compromising positions with slaves whose eyes either reflected with hate or such remoteness that Padme wondered if they would even react if a bomb went off.

"M'Lady, are you alright?" a Twi'lek male, a slave, asked her in a gentle tone.

Padme couldn't come up with anything to say, waving him away, feeling guilt eat away at her soul.

Republic or Empire, it hadn't made a difference to these people.

The Zygerrian Queen let out a purr as she leaned back, a man knelt between her legs, as she asked, "Is this evening not to your tastes, Sentress?"

Padme used every bit of her court training to keep the disgust off her face, "No, Queen Miraj, I simply prefer my own pleasures to be… private."

The Queen's feline smile really made Padme want to shoot her.

This is what she got for insisting she didn't need a Jedi guard on Rebel business.

Pirates and whatever in the galaxy this den of villainy was.

Miraj clapped her hands, "That can be arranged."

The twi'lek male was back, bending to listen to the Queen in moments. Miraj whispered to him as she stroked his lekku.

For a brief moment his eyes widened, and he glanced at Padme in what she read as fear.

But fear of her or for her, she couldn't tell as he schooled his features and bowed to his Queen. He offered Padme a hand, and she took it.

Padme was almost certain she would rather be put in a dungeon than remain here.

Almost.

Miraj petted Padme's hand as she passed, "He's my favourite, such fire."

Padme gave a nod and was relieved when the twi'lek guide didn't linger. She didn't speak to him as he led her down marbled halls. She wished she could say something that would make things better.

But as far as she could tell, this was hell and she could either play along or be made to join it. She had to get out of here.

The room she entered smelled heavily of burnt lavender and sandalwood. The twi'lek was an older man, she noted, not quite past his prime, but old enough that he had been serving food and not made to participate in the orgy in the grand room.

"Be wary of him," he whispered to her as she sat on the bed he indicated, handing her a device she was pretty sure connected to a shock collar, before departing so quickly she could not have responded.

Padme took stock of the canopy bed and anxiety ripped through her.

She wanted nothing to do with this place, and she really hoped that refusing whoever came to her wouldn't get either her or them hurt.

Minutes, or it might have been hours, passed, when she heard the tinkle of bells, or perhaps little metal beads chiming together like a toss of rain as someone approached through an entrance she hadn't noticed from deeper into the suite.

She saw his sillette through the fabric first, he was a big man, and as he stepped into full view, eyes downcast, she saw that he wore almost nothing.

A long strip of red-purple silk covered his manhood, held up by strands of chained gold, ornamented with bells and metal beads. His chest had been rubbed down by some sort of bronzer that made his sun kissed skin shimmer in the light.

And it seemed as if every bit of him was sculpted, emphasized by the golden bands around his arms and neck.

Wordlessly and without so much as a glance in her direction, he knelt before her in the centre of a stone mandala inlaid on the floor. His hair was on the longer side, the colour a brown, composed of many shades of blonde.

He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

She looked away, ashamed to have lusted after a man who had not come to her by choice or desire.

She fought back tears as rage spiraled in her gut, she could kill every Zygerrian slaver on this planet and it would not be enough. Nothing would ever equate to the suffering inflicted on these people and their families, on their loved ones.

Padme remembered her time on Tatooine, remembered being surprised that slavery still existed in the galaxy.

For all her education and position, the angry blue eyes of Anakin Skywalker had known better than she. Known more about the cruelties of the galaxy and the people who lived in it than she ever might.

Steeling herself, lest her emotions be taken as pity, she looked up to find the curious gaze of a slave she thought she could dismiss. She wouldn't be able to sleep tonight and she certainly would have preferred not to be alone in this palace built on greed and suffering, but she would die before taking advantage of anyone.

However, her heart stuttered as her mind registered _who_ was in the room with her. She froze… there was no way. There was just no way that he could be…

She couldn't speak and neither did he, looking at her as if… as if he were withholding judgement on hope... or hate.

* * *

Anakin Skywalker was ready to play the Queen's games tonight.

Miraj was under the opinion that she, Queen of Slaves, had finally broken him, Anakin Skywalker, the Slave Who Would Not Be Broken.

This, of course, wasn't the case. He had served Hutts for ages, he had nearly lost track of how many slavers, how many actions he had undergone on Nal Hutta.

But if the Hutts were anything, they were greedy as they were lazy. Anakin found himself in the rather lucky, or extremely unfortunate circumstance, depending on how one looked at it, of being a very expensive commodity.

Expensive enough that the Hutts would sooner sell him than damage him, beyond repair, at any rate.

Anakin had a reputation for taking, and giving, a great deal of pain.

Zygerria's training camps were, however… a new level of horror. It wasn't the back breaking work or the torture that got to him, no, it was seeing the suffering of those around him.

This last year, many considered him to be _finally_ broken when he started obeying on a regular basis, but he wasn't obedient, he was just biding his time.

Miraj had had the slave chip taken out of him last night. After nearly three years, she had finally taken it out.

Anakin wanted freedom, but not at the cost of his life. After all, how was he supposed to enjoy said freedom or laugh in the face of his enemies if he was dead?

The Hutts had realized after about the hundredth time Anakin had struck one of his 'owners' that the only thing that kept him from running was the cursed chip.

Miraj was arrogant, but she wasn't exactly stupid.

The Zygerrians didn't use chips on their slaves, they preferred 'conditioning', yet she had kept his slave chip in.

And yet, after three karking years in this palace as her personal 'escort', she had had the chipped removed.

Thank the stars he spoke droid. He had been able to see and decipher the scans for himself.

There was nothing but a silly collar between him and freedom now.

But he wasn't going to rush it, wasn't going to take unnecessary risks. He needed a ship, and he needed the guards to trust him alone enough to give him time to get away on said ship.

He could hold out a bit longer, because from this point forward, anything and everything; was his choice.

So for once, he willingly allowed himself to be led to his 'Mistress's' bedroom with the intent of enjoying himself.

He was going to make her beg and leave her wanting.

But he wasn't brought to the Queen's bed, and Anakin fought to keep his face free of rage.

He supposed Miraj was smarter than he had given her credit for. She had never shared him before, not with anyone.

But Miraj, for all her boasting about breaking him in, still didn't trust him.

Smart Bantha.

His mind went through a quick list of who she would have sent him to, if it was any of the males, he was going to take his chances with breaking out tonight, caution be damned.

But then he remembered that the Queen had 'caught' guests.

He supposed any of them would be good to test him on. As in, see if he would turn homicidal on someone who was not among her own people.

Because even among slavers, handing your own subjects over to a coin toss of getting strangled in bed was sort of frowned upon.

But, at least, Anakin thought, as he came in from the side entrance, wearing more gold than clothing, he could maybe respect a pirate over a slaver.

He went to his designated spot to wait, hearing the woman's breath, and he knew it was a woman, the suite was meant for a female and Anakin could smell the woman's perfume.

It was light, floral but clean. He only noticed it because it was different from the heavy smells of the rest of the palace.

Zygerrains preferred oils and lotions to soap and baths.

Anakin waited, but the female didn't acknowledge him.

He was wearing bells, unless she was deaf, she had to have heard him.

Taking a risk that he might not have taken with Miraj herself, he gave into his own curiosity, glanced up.

She was human, was his first relieved thought.

There would be no battle getting fur off himself later tonight or in the morning.

The woman had turned away from him, her dress a spill of heavy black cloth, and he couldn't tell what she was looking at or could possibly be thinking, so he took the unobserved moment to take her in.

She was beautiful.

Perhaps one of the most beautiful figures he had ever seen.

And she was oddly... familiar?

Was she another slave?

Or did she run in the same circles as Hutts?

The latter seemed unlikely, she was a slight woman, delicate, and as she turned to look at him...

His breath left him.

 _Padme_?

It had to be her.

He wouldn't have forgotten her in a million years.

He would never forget the day she and Qui-Gon had left, the day Anakin had been allowed to win his mother's freedom because of a Jedi's random gracious act.

The last day he had seen or heard of his mother when the Hutt's thugs came to take him away.

What was Padme doing here?

 _How_ was she here? And had she been with the pirates? Sold by the pirates?

Or was she Miraj's honoured guest?

Anakin didn't want to believe the last one. But if his life had taught him one thing, it was though you should never assume the worst of someone, you should never discount it either.

Yet he couldn't stand the thought that Padme, the girl who had been so kind to him a lifetime ago, would be friends of any kind with Miraj.

Anakin was certain that Padme wouldn't recognize him in turn. Sure, she had grown more beautiful, but she was still her.

He, however, would never be mistaken for a slight mechanic shop boy.

But to his surprise and delight, when Padme did speak, or rather squeak, it was his name, "...Ani?" She cleared her throat, colour rising in her cheeks as she gave him very good eye contact, her gaze resolutely not trailing down his mostly nude body, "Anakin Skywalker?"

He hesitated, it had been a very long time since anyone had thought to call him 'Ani,' and he was, if addressed, trained to be demure.

But Padme hadn't addressed him as a slave, she had addressed him as a man.

He stood without permission and he almost smiled as she hastened to her feet. "Padme," he said, surprised by the warmth in his own voice, "I'm surprised you remember me."

"It was your eyes," she blurted.

He smirked, "Well, I didn't think it was my quadriceps."

He almost laughed as her gaze dropped and her cheeks coloured bright pink.

It had been a long time since he felt like this, delighted, a shadow of happiness.

He took a step toward her and she backed up so fast, her momentum sat her down as the back of her legs met the bed.

He stopped, wondering if she was afraid of him which is when reality seemed to crash back on him.

He had to know.

"Padme, why are you here?"

Her embarrassment seemed to fade under a practised mask as if she were a politician.

Or a guard, he thought more charitably, it wouldn't have surprised him if the handmaidens of Nabuin Queen doubled as guards.

But still, that expression made him uneasy, he had known too many politicians in his life.

"Ani, come sit," she said motioning to the spot on the bed beside her.

"Is that an order, M'Lady?" he asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

She blanched, "What? No, no, I-"

"Why are you here?" he demanded.

He had to know.

And he would know if she lied, he always knew when he was being lied to. He had a lot of practice with it.

Padme put a delicate hand to her temple, and sighed, "Pirates."

He waited for more.

Seeing his expression, she elaborated, though her voice dropped as if afraid she might be overheard, "I was working a job for the Rebellion. Things went sideways when the troopers showed up. The Imperials would have caught me, but an old acquaintance of mine offered me passage. I didn't know why they brought us here, spice I suspect."

Relief swept through him.

Padme hadn't changed, she was still the same girl. So virtuous that she couldn't fathom slavery, to the point where it had angered her that anyone would even _think_ it was anything but abhorrent.

He strode to the bed and sat beside her, annoyed by the frivolous tinkle of the bells. As if he was the cat that needed to be kept in check.

She turned to him, and he allowed himself a moment to take in the view.

In his memories, she had been a blessing from the suns, the embodiment of kindness and mercy.

But looking at her now? Yeah, his thoughts were less pure. Because Handmaiden Padme was an incredibly lovely woman and he was no longer a child who had been sheltered by his mother.

Padme cleared her throat, "Ani- Anakin, would you perhaps, mind, that is-" she gestured vaguely to his body.

He leaned closer to her, "Do I make you uncomfortable, Handmaiden?"

Her shoulders stiffened, but her body language told him that she was more uneasy with her response to him than fear of him.

"Yes," she said, voice tight, glancing away.

He chuckled and pressed a quick kiss to her turned cheek before pulling the throw blanket that was more decoration than blanket over himself.

Padme's shoulders eased, and she met his gaze more easily, "We tried coming back for you, you know? Qui-Gon and I, but you were already…"

"Sold," he finished for her, allowing his tone to hide the feelings that arose at the idea that she and the Jedi had come back for him. "I made myself too popular, being the first human to win that race, and at such an age. Watto didn't want to part with me, which only drove the price up. I was on a ship to Nal Hutta before the suns had set."

Nal Hutta made Tatooine seem like a paradise.

"Your mother and I kept in touch," Padme said.

He blinked at her, "You did? Where is she? Is she still-"

 _Free._ That was his worst fear, that his mother would have been resold into slavery.

"She is still a freewoman," Padme reassured, reaching out to put a hand on his knee like someone might do for a friend. "She married a moisture farmer, Cliegg Lars. They live out past Anchorhead, not too far from the Dune Sea. She didn't have any more kids of her own after you but her step-children, your siblings, adore her. She's even a grandmother now. Shmi is well loved by all who know her, myself included."

Anakin looked away as he let her words wash over him. He had to fight to keep his breath steady.

When he gained control over himself, he turned back to her and caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, "Thank you, Padme, that is the greatest gift you could have possibly given me."

"She thinks of you everyday," Padme said without taking her hand back, "She wishes-"

"No," he interrupted, "no, it was better this. I would rather it was me who had been resold. My mother has suffered enough in her life. I cannot tell you how happy I am that she… was able to live."

Padme put her free hand over his, "I'll try to get a message to her that you're alive. I regret that I have been somewhat lax in my communication lately. Being my friend nowadays isn't always the safest occupation."

He squeezed her hand, "Maiden to Rebel, huh?" Not that he really cared what her political opinion was. Empire, Republic, Seperatist, they had all been the same to him.

She stared down at their hands, then met his gaze, her eyes the colour of honey in sunlight, "I have a confession to make, Ani."

"Oh?" he asked, a bit distracted.

He wasn't sure if she was just precisely his type or the only woman he had spoken with who spoke to him like he was a man.

So it caught him a bit wrong footed when she said, "My full name is Padme Amidala Nabaerrie, I was never a handmaiden. I was the Queen of Naboo, undercover as one of my handmaidens. My friend, Sabe, stayed on the ship to allow me to see a world that without the protection of a Jedi Knight, I might never have been able to see it otherwise."

He stared at her and took his hand back, "You're a politician?"

She nodded, "Queens have terms and are voted in by the people on Naboo. Currently, I am the Senator of Naboo, not that it means much anymore. The Senate has no power over the Emperor."

Anakin was stunned, and it took him a long moment to regain his bearings. "What," he repeated, "are doing here?"

"I told you-"

"No, _Senator_ , you shouldn't have told me. If Miraj finds out that you're a Sen-"

"She already recognized me, Ani."

His breath caught, and his voice was urgent when he said, "We have to get you out of here."

"But-"

"It is too dangerous for you here."

"Miraj hasn't hurt me yet."

Stars help him, how could she still be this naive?

He pushed her back against the bed in abrupt motion, straddling her. It wasn't as intimate as it might have been. There were more layers to her dress than there were covers on the bed.

He pinned her wrists, he needed to make her understand, "Miraj sent me to you, she means you harm."

Padme looked up at him, and for the life of him, he couldn't fathom what she was thinking. "You won't hurt me, Anakin," she informed him boldly.

He shifted more of his weight on her wrists, not to hurt, but enough to make anyone realize in her position that they couldn't escape him, "But I could hurt you, Padme Amidala."

"But you won't," she stated without a shred of hesitation or doubt.

He restrained a snort before saying, "Anybody ever tell you that you're incredibly stubborn?"

She smirked, "I think it's been my mother's favourite refrain since I was born."

He nearly laughed and he could have kissed her then, but he wouldn't. Not with a slave collar around his neck. No, the day he seduced this woman, he would be a free man.

Pulling back from her, he sat upright on the edge of the bed as he tried to think of a way to get them out of this.

He had been ready to wait, but if something happened to Padme, if she was enslaved because of his caution, he would never forgive himself.

He wasn't a coward and he had the strength and the cunning to get them out of here.

"Anakin-"

He looked at her and asked, voice tired as his mind spun with the logistics of figuring out the best way to get past the guards and get to the hangar, "Yes, Senator?"

"Why would Miraj think you would hurt me?"

Anakin shook his head. "Padme…" he sighed, "why would you think I wouldn't? I should have been a stranger to you and I am far larger than you. Overpowering you would not have been difficult."

"I understand that," she said, "But I don't understand why she thought _you_ would have hurt me. You're not like that."

"You don't know that," he stated.

Padme bit her lip, before she explained, "I know that I shouldn't trust you, it's not exactly rational, but I do."

Again, he really wanted to steal a kiss, but not here. Freedom was at his fingertips, "You weren't afraid when I came into the room either, before you knew who I was."

To his confusion, she reached into her top between her breasts, that confusion melted away when he saw what she pulled out.

She probably had had no intention of using it, but she hadn't been naive enough to keep it out in the open or discard it out of reach. She handed the toggle to him. "I wouldn't have wanted to use it," she said softly before asking, "Did Miraj tell you to hurt me?"

"No," he answered, "but I am not known for my obedience." He began taking apart the toggle almost unconsciously. "If I had 'acted out', I could have killed you before anyone could have helped you. I would have been punished for it, but not killed. Over the years, they've spent too much time and credits on me. It's almost a prestige thing to own me. But like I said, I am not easily controlled."

Padme stared at him sadly, but there was no anger or judgment in her amber eyes even as she asked, "If I had been someone else, would you have hurt me?"

The toggle came apart completely in his hands, and he began twisting the wires in what would become a makeshift key to bypass the triggers within his collar. "That would have depended."

"Depended on what?" she asked.

His lips curled, "If you had hurt me, I would have hurt you back."

Her response to that surprised him, "Good."

Anakin smiled, and told her, "We will leave at dawn, M'Lady."

She nodded, "You're the boss. Panaka is going to kill me if I don't get back to Naboo."

He cupped the side of her face with his palm. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you, Padme." It was as much a promise to her as it was to himself.

He was taking his life back. He would be the master of his own destiny.

Padme's smile just about broke his heart, "I know."

Her faith in him, the faith of a near stranger trusting that he was kind and honourable enough to help her, reminded him of who he was.

His mother's son.

The task of escaping Zygerria suddenly felt like an adventure rather than the thing that would make him whole.

He was already whole, already a man with his own heart and mind.

It was just time he reminded the galaxy of that fact.

* * *

AN: So this is very much a romance and I do not know that I will continue it. Thoughts, reactions, suggestions?


End file.
